


Here, Kitty Kitty

by Batsymomma11



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Has Issues, Cat Ears, Cat/Human Hybrids, Clark laughs, Explicit Language, Funny, Gen, Magic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: Bruce gets turned into a cat...at least only for a day. But he understandably freaks out and calls in every bit of help he can muster. It's the end of the world when you're sporting a cat tail and ears. After all, he's Batman, not Catman.





	Here, Kitty Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> Non-can story. Just a silly one-shot for shits and giggles. I'm a potty mouth and apparently so is Bruce so I had to rate this a little higher just for that.  
> I don't own DC or the characters. I do own the story.  
> Enjoy!

            Un-fucking-believable.

            Bruce glared fiercely into the mirror of his bathroom at his own reflection and felt nausea curl in his stomach painfully.

            “Dear God,” he whispered, wincing when a pointed tooth caught his lip. Wide-eyed, Bruce leaned forward and opened his mouth to stare at the sharply pointed canines he was now sporting. “Merciful saints.”

            Horrified, Bruce began tearing at his clothes, desperate not to panic as he started to take in the whole picture of what had happened. He’d already been stunned by the appearance of the velvet black ears that jutted out of his hair and twitched as he watched them. Still, there was a part of his mind that had felt—dreamy. Like what he was seeing wasn’t reality. Then he’d become startlingly aware of the fact that his pupils were no longer circular, but rather diamond-like. Cat-like.

            Bruce jerked a hand back when something soft and fuzzy wrapped around his right wrist then made a yelping noise as he realized it was a fucking tale.

            “A fucking tail.”

            Long and black, matching the ears, it flickered back and forth with a mind of its own just above his ass. Bruce wanted to die.

            “Alfred,” he started worriedly, grabbing his robe to tie it around his waist as he began picking up his pace, rushing for the door. Nobody could see him like this. Nobody.

            “Alfred!”

            He ran towards the kitchen, saw it empty, then bolted for the study. Still no butler. Panic gripped him hard, particularly when he felt the alien sensation of the tail flipping around in the confines of the robe. It made his skin crawl.

            “Alfred!”

            “I’m right here Master Bru—.”

            Bruce spun, found Alfred staring open-mouthed at him then rushed forward and grabbed both his arms. “I need help.”

            “Master Bruce, what is on your head?”

            “Ears,” Bruce felt his face heat, “focus. I need help.”

            “I can see that,” Alfred said dazedly, his vision suddenly sharpening when the tail forced its way out and started swishing with irritation. “My God.”

            “You need to call Zatana. The JLA. Everyone. I need to—” Bruce jerked when he heard another bedroom door open. The boys. He’d forgotten about the boys. “Shit, shit, shit.”

            A low growl rumbled in his chest and Alfred jumped backwards like he’d been struck by a cattle prod. “Oh my.”

            Bruce blinked, “Sorry.”

            “I’ll take care of things Master Bruce. Go to your room.”

            “OK, good. That’s good. Call Clark too.”

            “Isn’t he apart of the JLA?” Alfred said quietly, brows lifting.

            “Yes,” Bruce growled again, startling both of them. He turned on his heel and headed straight for his room.

 

            “So, he’s in there?” Clark said quietly, trying to hide the smirk on his face. There had been a desperate tone to the butler’s face when he’d received the call. But even Bruce could overexaggerate when faced with magic. The man hated it. Would even admit there was a bit of fear involved with it.

            Still, Clark had come the moment the call had been placed.

            “Yes, Master Clark. It’s—quite unsettling.”

            “I’m sure it is.”

            Knocking once, simply to let Bruce know he was coming in, not really asking for permission, Clark stepped inside and stopped dead in his tracks.

            Bruce was standing with both arms folded, wearing a t-shirt and sweats. But he had a pair of cat’s ears on the top of his head and a tail swished angrily from his back. Out of the sweats? Was their a hole to accommodate it?

            Clark took a couple steps nearer, saw the cat’s eyes and the pointed teeth and slapped his hand to his mouth to stop an all out laugh.

            Black ears flattened in anger and it only made it worse.

            “I’m sorry,” Clark wheezed, “It’s just—you’re so cute.”

            “What?” Bruce hissed, actually hissed like a cat, then jerked like he’d not expected that to come out of his body. Which only made Clark want to laugh more.

            “What,” laughter, snorting, “Happened?”

            “What the fuck do you think happened?” Deep aggressive growling and more hissing. “that bitch empress turned me into a cat! A fucking cat!”

            “Well, not fully. I mean, more of a cat-man.”

            Bruce’s eyes narrowed, “Did you call Zatana? Did you tell anyone?”

            “Alfred seemed to think this should be kept a little more on the down low. And now seeing the extent of the damage, I think he was right. You—” Clark laughed again, “You’re so cute as a cat. Can I touch the ears?”

            “Absolutely not,” Bruce grumbled, “They’re sensitive.”

            “And the tail?”

            “What about it?” the tail in question began to swish more erratically, “No touching that either. It makes me feel—very uncomfortable.”

            “Do you still _feel_ human?”

            Bruce growled, “More or less. I’m—struggling with a few weird things. But nothing I can’t handle.”

            “That’s good. Because we have no idea how long you might be stuck like that.” Clark contemplated his friend, trying to view him dispassionately and separate from the problem. It was a challenge. “What sort of things are you struggling with?”

            Red crept so quickly into Bruce’s cheeks that Clark had to smother a smile behind a hand.

            “You can tell me.”

            Gray eyes flashed in irritation and then grew cautious. “I purr Clark.”

            “You do?”

            Bruce shrugged a shoulder, eyes suddenly down on the floor. “I’m actually fucking purring just because you’re here. If I’m even the slightest bit happy about something, I can’t help it. I have no fucking control of my body. The tail,” he sighed dramatically, “the tail does what it wants. I don’t like something back there where I can’t see and I can hear everything. And I—I’m craving fish.”

            Clark nodded, hand still over his mouth, near choking with the effort to remain straight faced. This was getting better and better, “Anything else?”

            “And I—” Bruce looked up, glared flatly and those ears went back to hug his scalp, then he looked back down, “I want to rub on everything. I keep brushing on my bed. Every time I see Alfred all I want to do is rub all over him and have him pet me,” he shivered as though the idea were repulsive. For a man who was all about control, Clark imagined this was one of the hardest things he’d ever dealt with. “I’m going to kill that bitch when I catch her.”

            It shouldn’t be so humorous. But it was. It was damn hilarious.

            “Uh,” Clark cleared his throat, forcing his voice to sound sharp with warning, “not a good idea.”

            “A great idea.”

            “Bruce…”

            “What? You know I’m not really serious,” something dark in his expression said he was actually serious, “I just like imagining it. In many. Different. Ways.”

            Clark could hear it before Bruce noticed, the soft delicate rumbling that was obviously a purr and Bruce stiffened abruptly when he finally did. His eyes went wide and dilated to near black. It was—startling. “Oh fuck. This is humiliating.”

            “Then stop thinking about things that make you happy. Like killing the empress.”

            “Right, sure. So, fucking easy.”

            Clark snorted, wondering how much more absurd this situation could get. The role reversal was outright hysterical. “Calm down. We’ll get this figured out.”

            “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Bruce yelled, charging at Clark, hands shaking with rage, You aren’t changed into a cat, so you have no fucking idea what I’m dealing with right now!”

            “No, I have no idea.”

            “That’s right,” Bruce growled, pacing in front of Clark, nearing him with each circle till he was finally just brushing him as he went. The tail curled around Clark’s arm as if to grab him and Clark bit his cheek to keep from grinning. He was enjoying this more than he should be. And it was going to be amazing to lord over him for years to come. But for now, he needed to be a good friend and help the Bat from falling apart.

            “Would it make you feel better if I just—took the edge off and scratched you a little? Maybe behind the ears?”

            Wrong thing to say.

            Bruce stopped dead in his tracks, shoulders tightened, then turned slowly, rage coloring his vision. “You think is funny, don’t you?”

            “A little.”

            There was no denying that.

            “You think this is—is—” Bruce’s eyes glazed and he started sniffing the air, “What is _that_?”         

            Clark frowned, trying to detect whatever smell had Bruce so enraptured. It smelled vaguely like coffee and then…tuna fish. There was a soft knock at the door, then a plate was offered with tuna fish and a fork. Bruce took the plate eagerly, then slammed the door closed, directly in Alfred’s face. Without pause, he took the tuna to his bed and started shoveling it into his mouth like a caveman.

            “I’m starving.”

            “I can see that.”

            “Don’t judge me,” Bruce said around a mouthful, eyes glaring daggers, venom dripping from his words, “Don’t you dare judge me.”

            “I’m not. I’m just—”

            “Laughing.”

            “A little,” Clark admitted picking the seat beside Bruce, “Zatana is aware of the situation and said she should have a counteractive spell by the end of the day.”

            The fork clattered to the plate, already mostly empty. “End of day? I have to be like this all day?”

            “I’m afraid so. Not many leaguers are versed in magic.”

            “Fucking magic,” the low growl was absurdly adorable coming from Bruce. He started eating again, tail flicking and brushing Clark like an old friend, ears cocked back as if ready to snarl. Clark struggled not to laugh when the tail kept curling around his arm, without Bruce’s notice.

            The man would die of embarrassment. Which made it all the more amusing.

            Finished, Bruce sighed heavily, then put down his plate. Without missing a beat, he started to lick at his hands and fingers, mindlessly cleaning himself. Till he suddenly stopped, then hissed with horror. “My God! I’m losing my mind!”

            “Bruce, calm down.”

            “I can’t. I think—I think I’m having a panic attack.”

            Clark frowned, seeing Bruce wasn’t being all that dramatic. His breathing was escalating at an alarming rate and with those cat ears angled back, nearly flat, he looked terrified. Pupils blown, hands trembling. It was unsettling to see a man so unflappable rushing headlong down the ledge of panic.

            “Calm down Bruce. Take a deep breath. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

            “I can’t do this.”

            “Yes, you can. It’s going to be alright. This isn’t a big deal.”

            Bruce’s gaze locked onto Clark’s as he worked to calm himself and then, like a switch being flicked, he smoothed out from crown to toes. His breathing evened, his heart slowed and the man sagged.

            It was a bit startling.

            “I’m fine.”

            Clark lifted a brow, “You sure? Because a moment ago…”

            Bruce nodded, eyes distant now, “Yes. I just need to meditate. You can go.”

            Damn it all, if the man wasn’t an oddity.

            “Go?”

            “Yes,” barely a glance at Clark now, “go.”

            “Well, OK. I’ll go hang out with Alfred until Zatanna gets here.”

            A low rumbling started to emanate from Bruce’s chest again, the purr in absolute contradiction to the painfully serious expression on Bruce’s face. Clark carefully stood, keeping his eyes on Bruce as he rose to his feet. The man was almost vacant now, face lax, hands folded in his lap. Even the tail had gone limp. Bruce had gone into that place that no one else belonged.

            Clark envied him that ability.

            Smiling, he shook his head and went to find Alfred. By the end of the day, Zatanna would help them change Bruce back and whatever this was—would just be a funny memory. A memory that would hardly be believable.

            Even still, Clark was never going to let Bruce live it down.

           

           


End file.
